


Protocol

by plumandfinch



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 13:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11059965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumandfinch/pseuds/plumandfinch
Summary: He pops his head back into the hallway and hisses, “There’s only one bed.” If looks could kill, his blonde, chiseled form would be prostrate on the floor.





	Protocol

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Steggyweek2k17 Day 5: Tropes, Kinks, or Cliches

He pops his head back into the hallway and hisses, “There’s only one bed.” If looks could kill, his blonde, chiseled form would be prostrate on the floor. 

 

“En francais,  _ Etienne _ .  Et ce n'est pas un problème en ce moment. ”

 

He is shoved unceremoniously back through the doorway with a bewigged Peggy,  _ non Marie-Helene _ , hot on his heels. She shuts the door rather forcefully and turns both of the locks. 

 

“Rogers,” she says in a way that makes him put up his hands in defense.

 

“Agent Carter, I know. I’m so sorry. It was a slip, I promise it won’t happen again.”

 

Her arms are crossed now and he’s wondering which is worse, facing her in this moment or facing Hydra. 

 

“I asked Phillips for you specifically. This isn’t even deep cover!” she shakes her head and the tips of his ears burn. “What are you supposed to remember?”

 

He ticks the items off on his fingers. “I’m an artist from Le Havre, we’re here to find work, we are to pick up the package from that little shop in the Rue Pernelle.”

 

She’s started to unpack as he recites but she looks up at his silence. “And?”

 

“You and I - we are- that is to say...we’re married.”

 

“So we would expect to have one bed in our room, correct?”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“And we speak?”

 

“French.”

 

She picks up a small bag from her valise. “The pick up isn’t until tomorrow morning. I’m going to change for supper and we’ll see if you can get a handle on this.”

 

When he thinks of it later, he swears she had winked at him. 

 

\--

 

Later, he sits in the room’s lone chair watching her carefully unpin her wig. 

 

“Last time, I just dyed my hair. It was much easier.” she sighs. 

 

He’s already changed covertly into his pajamas as had Peggy, who had stepped out to the small  _ salle de bains _ down the hallway. Satisfied with the carefully draped wig on the dresser, she shrugs off her robe, sits austerly on the bed, and tilts her head at him. He gulps, somehow the masculine inspired sleepwear the SSR managed to dig up and her pin curled hair make her heartbreakingly beautiful and he thinks he might throw up.

 

“Captain Rogers, are you planning on spending the night sitting on that chair?”

 

“No, ma’am.” he replies much too quickly “That is, this being my first mission of this sort, I’m not sure of the protocol here.”

 

She raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Do you intend on assaulting me in the middle of the night.” 

 

“No, ma’am!” he almost shouts.

 

“Well, then.” she says with a distinct finality as she crawls under the covers. He takes one more measured breath and almost dives under the threadbare comforter on his side. They lie in silence for a moment.

 

“Agent Carter, do I have to worry about you assaulting me?”

 

She answers by clicking off the light.

 

\--

They aren’t exactly embracing when her eyelids drift open to the sounds of Paris awakening but when she takes stock, she realizes that at some time in the night his fingers intertwined with hers. The soft sounds of his breathing tell her that he’s still asleep. She lets her eyes fall closed again, content not to move an inch. 


End file.
